


Team Players

by thecarlysutra



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Anal Sex, Baseball, Bets & Wagers, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Couch Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Post-Canon, Rimming, Sleepy Cuddles, minor permanent injury, positive reinforcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: SUMMARY:Ray's home run wins Walter fifty bucks, and Walter finds a way to show his appreciation.AUTHOR’S NOTES:Written for Writer’s Month Day 7 for the promptsports.





	Team Players

  
Walter and Junior stood at the chain-link fence, drinking beer and watching the game go on.

“Thinking of getting a team together at the station,” Walter said. “Maybe starting a real league, no more of this amateur hour.”

“You just need to think up a clever name,” Junior said. “The Pigs, maybe.”

“Ha ha, very fucking funny.”

Walter raised his beer as Ray came up to bat. Ray smiled at him.

“Flirt,” Junior said.

“Just keepin’ up morale. I got money riding on him.”

Junior grinned and tapped his wallet. “You don’t have to remind me.”

There was a sharp crack, and Ray’s ball flew over the fence and into the parking lot. Ray jogged around the bases, and Junior kicked irritably at the dusty earth.

“Goddammit,” Junior grumbled as he went through his wallet. “Ain’t fair he’s on your team every time.”

“Hell, I’m sleeping with him; that's dibs, cousin.”

***

Fresh from the shower, Ray sat on the couch, feet on the coffee table. Walter brought him some ice for his knee. 

"Thanks," he said, and flinched slightly as the sharp cold bit his skin. 

Walter sat beside him, throwing an arm around Ray's neck, running his fingertips through the close-cropped hair at Ray's nape. 

"So, what'd your folks do for you when you won a Little League game? Or later, when you were in high school, college?" 

Ray eyed him. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, how'd they reward you for playing well?" 

Ray laughed. It came out a bit sharp. "You're kidding, right? My dad … peak performance—a good game, good grades, whatever—wasn't rewarded, it was _expected_." 

Walter considered this for a while. He had never met Ray's stepfather, but he sounded like a man who liked his ship in shape. And growing up like that would explain a few things about Ray. 

Walter scooted in closer. "Well, I'd certainly like to show you my appreciation." 

"For playing a good game, or winning fifty dollars off Junior for you?" 

Walter's mouth turned sheepishly. "You know about that, huh?" 

"Don't worry," Ray said. "I'm not gonna take you in. I do want my cut, though." 

Walter's brow went up. "Your cut?" 

"Yeah," Ray said, feigning innocence, "you said you were going to reward me." 

He grinned. Walter laughed. He took the ice from Ray's knee, throwing it to the side as he came over him, straddling him at the waist. Ray raised his face to be kissed, and Walter kissed him, taking his time with it, tasting him, teasing him. Ray moaned quietly, and pulled Walter against him, an arm around his back and the other hand in his hair, angling his face more to Ray's liking. 

Ray was in his pajamas after the shower, and Walter petted him through the lightweight fabric, the soft, thin cotton barely muting his touch. Ray writhed, self-controlled everywhere but here, when it was just the two of them talking with their bodies. Walter loved that about him. He chuckled, and and bit down on Ray's throat, not letting go until Ray whined. 

"Eager, aren'tcha?" 

Ray panted. "Yes." 

"Well, don't be shy, now. Tell me what you want." 

Ray blushed. He didn't like talking about sex, even during sex. But Walter was getting him used to it, a little bit at a time. 

"I want … will you—will you do that thing I like?" 

Walter knew exactly what he was talking about, and for once, he didn't feign ignorance. He pulled back, hoisting Ray off the couch and flipping him, so that he was lying on his belly, his face in the cushions. Walter yanked Ray's pajama bottoms down, and then knelt beside him, leaning over him, running his tongue down Ray's tailbone and into his crack. Ray mewled and bucked, and Walter drew back. 

"Easy, easy now," he said, and rubbed Ray's back until he'd settled a little. 

Walter spread Ray open and teased him with his mouth, working him slowly, working him well. Ray had the couch's cheap upholstery bunched in his fists, but it was helping him not squirm too much. His breaths were growing short, but he wasn't touching himself, just focusing on what Walter was doing to him, the incredible pleasure, the unbearable tickling tease of it. He said Walter's name at least a dozen times, moaning it into the couch cushions, and every time he said it, he added some more vowels. Walter, Waaaaalter, Waaaaaalteeer. It was enough that Walter had to give his own cock a few strokes just to stand it. 

"We shoulda done this in the bedroom," Walter said. 

"Why?" Ray breathed. 

"You know what a pretty sight you are right now? How good you sound? I'd be in you hilt deep already, 'cept I didn't think to bring any lube out here with me." 

Ray groaned. "Fuck, I—go, but hurry." 

Walter went. He hurried. When he got back to the living room with the tube of lubricant, he found Ray had stripped off his shirt and changed positions. He was up on his knees on the couch, facing the wall, bracing himself on the back of the couch. 

"You're such a good boy," Walter purred, so close his breath as he spoke brought up goose pimples on Ray's neck. "I'm gonna make you feel real good, _čhaŋté skúya_." 

Ray moaned quietly as Walter got him ready, then louder as Walter pushed inside him. Ray held onto the back of the couch like a life raft as Walter moved inside him, the tightness and warmth and sweetness of him. It felt like home. Ray always felt like going home. Walter wanted to draw it out, but Ray was too stimulated and it'd be cruel to make him take too much more, so he waited until Ray was coming and crying out one word, his name in all caps—WALTER—and then he pushed in deep and let himself go. 

Later, cleaned up and snuggling together in bed, Walter watched Ray's face as he drifted off to sleep. He thought about Ray as a kid, wondered when those light eyes had taken on that wary wolf kind of look to them. Maybe he'd been born like that, but Walter doubted it. That was something you earned. Most everyone's childhood gave them things too heavy for a child to carry, so you had to carry them as an adult, and Walter couldn't take away any of Ray's, but maybe he could help shoulder the weight. 

"You did a real good job today, and I'm real proud of you." 

Ray looked at him. "At the game, or after?" 

"Both," Walter said. "You're a good boy, and I'm happy you're on my team." 

Ray blushed a little, the embarrassed sort of blush he got sometimes that started with his ears, but then he leaned in and kissed Walter, closed mouth, soft. 

"Thanks, coach," he said, and smiled.  



End file.
